


Jared and Connor vs. the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

by caswell, Puglebug



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: (connor is obviously also pining but this is jared pov), Group Therapy, M/M, Therapy, Trans Jared Kleinman, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, pining!jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puglebug/pseuds/Puglebug
Summary: Jared is admitted to group therapy following the divorce of his mother from his asshole father. What he doesn't anticipate is that Connor would be there, too.





	Jared and Connor vs. the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

**Author's Note:**

> HEY Y'ALL welcome to the first CJ & Ezra Co. Fanned Fiction..... by which I mean, shoutout to my cowriter Ezra (puglebug on Tumblr) for helping me with all of this and contributing to the prose! Luv ya!  
> A couple other notes- if the boys seem a little more well balanced than they are in the musical itself, it's because, obviously, in the background they're in group therapy, so, y'know. Progress. Also, for the sake of this fanfic, Jared and Evan are actually legitimately good friends, because... I love their friendship lmao.  
> During the text parts, Jared's always going to be on the right. Evan types with proper grammar and capitalization, and Connor types with proper grammar but no capitalization.  
> Since it's pretty Connor-heavy, there are a few parts with mentioned self-harm, and, during the weed scene, talk of suicide.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Honestly, the weirdest thing about this whole situation is that Jared actually showed up at therapy. He could've skipped, hung out at a coffee shop or something while those other sorry suckers learned skills and talked about their lives- made it into any other typical Thursday afternoon. Instead, he's actually _here,_ sitting in his car with both hands on the wheel as he stares up at the office building that houses the group therapy program. He’s been here plenty of times, driving Evan when Heidi couldn’t (which is most of the time), but this is the first time he’ll ever actually be attending a session.

“Come on, Jared,” Evan says. “We’re gonna be late if we don’t get out of the car.” He clutches his white binder, a thick fucker that matches Jared’s, to his chest. It doesn’t quite touch due to the thick blue down jacket Evan’s wearing-  in fact, it almost looks comical. Inside of it- Jared had checked his own last night- is, among other things, pretty much all he’d ever learn from this program. Why is he even bothering to come if he’s got a binder like that?

“Yeah, fine, I’m coming.” Jared steps out of the car and closes the door behind him in a slammish fashion, earning a jump from Evan. “Jeez, it’s not a freakin’ warzone,” he says. “I just closed the door.”

“Sorry, just… you know I don’t like sudden loud noises.”

Jared nods, his own sort of apology, and lets his binder sway to and fro in his hand as they head over a patch of dirty snow and for the doors. Past them is a narrow hallway, which he follows down to a heavy mahogany door. It's a beautiful interior, really- not that he really cares, but it's better than being fuck ugly.

Through the door is a lobby, then another hallway with various other doors; the one his group is behind is the second on the right. Avoiding the gaze of the mother and daughter who are sitting in the lobby, he walks over, Evan following close behind. When he sees what- rather, who- awaits past it, though, he closes the door again and whispers to Evan, “Why did you not tell me Connor fuckin’ Murphy is in our therapy group?”

“I’m not supposed to tell people!” Evan says. “It’s, like, against the contract we sign on the first day.”

“Well, you could’ve given me a warning. That guy’s a freak.” Jared sighs, rubs one eye under his glasses, then opens the door again. Connor still hasn’t looked up from his binder, where he’s drawing a pile of dirt, complete with a couple of highly detailed worms. It would be impressive, but instead, it’s just a little creepy.

Evan takes a seat across the table from Connor, struggling to take off his coat as Jared sits at his right, between him and a bigger girl whose blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail. She looks nice, at least; open features, the hint of a smile on her face. She’s the sort of person who would hate him if she knew him, Jared’s sure.

The atmosphere of the room is a tense one, even though nobody's speaking. That actually might be the reason it's so… stifling. The only thing Jared can hear is the ticking of the clock, the shuffling of papers, and the scratching of Connor's pencil. After what feels like an eternity but is probably closer to three minutes, Evan leans over and whispers, “Sorry it’s so quiet. A lot of people here have social anxiety and stuff.”

Oh, right. Jared's not used to being surrounded by people who are messed up- and he has the right to say that, given that, according to the lady who did his intake session, he’s messed up, too. Sure, Evan's got wicked bad anxiety, but he hardly counts as someone that _surrounds_ him. “Ah. And here I thought they were intimidated by my stunning good looks,” he says. What's he doing here? He doesn't belong here. He's _fine._

Before Evan can reply, though, the door opens, and in steps a bald man- shaved, it looks like, not male pattern baldness- with an impressive brown beard. The woman who did his intake said he’d be in Kenneth’s group; this must be him. That, or someone killed Kenneth in his sleep and is now impersonating him. Jared cracks a half-smile at his internal joke.

“‘Morning, everybody,” Kenneth says. (Jared’s made up his mind: he’ll call him Kenneth, even if he’s really an axe murderer.) “As you can see, we have a new group member here. Jared, would you like to introduce yourself?”

Oh, fun. Jared’s always hated introductions; what’s he even supposed to say? Nothing interesting ever happens to him, so that annihilates the whole ‘fun fact about you’ thing. He usually defaults to the heterochromia thing, but then that either gets “What’s heterochromia?” questions, or, if people know what heterochromia is, “No, you don’t, both your eyes are the same color,” and then he has to point out that heterochromia can be partial, not just half and half, which is a total pain in the ass.

While Kenneth writes some instructions on the board- name, age, pronouns, school, reason for being here, and the dreaded fun fact- Jared leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. “I think you kinda did it for me, there, Kenneth.”

“Well, we’ll need a little more information than that,” Kenneth says, urging him onward.

Stifling a groan, Jared says, “Alright. I’m Jared, I’m seventeen, I go to Cassadaga Valley High, my mom’s making me come here because she and my asshole dad are splitting up, and I’ve got heterochromia. Those last two aren’t related.”

“What about your pronouns?” the girl seated next to Connor asks. Jared might be imagining it, but there’s a hint of a sneer in her voice, which doesn’t bode well. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared catches Evan squirming, and honestly? He doesn’t blame him.

He was _hoping_ it would just be implied, since he hates talking about gender- covers up everything about his body and hopes to a God he doesn’t really believe in that people just register him as male. Begrudgingly, he says, “He/him, thanks.”

Kenneth draws a sloppy circle on the whiteboard, labeling one part with Jared’s name, and puts his own at the top. Above it is the date: 2.11. “Who’s next?”

The girl on Jared’s right opens her mouth to introduce herself, but she’s interrupted by the girl on her other side, pale-skinned with long, dark hair. “Julia, sixteen, she/her, Chautauqua High. Narcissism.”

“Wow, really? We all had no idea.”

It takes a moment for Jared to register what happened. Connor, still not having looked up from his binder, has a smirk on his face, even as he doodles. Connor, of all people, actually speaking up.

“Connor, I think that’s-” Kenneth begins, but Julia interrupts him:

“Well, why don’t you go, then, Connor?” Contempt drips from Julia's voice, but Connor doesn’t seem at all bothered.

He finally sets his pencil down and threads his fingers together to crack his knuckles. “Okay, fine,” he says. “Hi, kids who I go to school with. As you all probably know, I got fucked by mental illness when I was a kid, did a bunch of crazy shit, and now I am the resident school freak. I take a revolving door of pills that don’t work for me and smoke shit tons of pot to cope with the fact that I may remain unloved ‘til I die of drug overdose before I hit twenty-five because I turned everyone off from tolerance of my existence.” Despite the crushing despair of what he’s just said, Connor’s face betrays no sadness, and is almost skewed toward amusement.

As Jared peers at him, head cocked slightly to one side, it occurs to him that there’s actually a little bud of respect growing in his chest, which is wild. This is _the_ Connor Murphy he’s talking about- the guy's a self-proclaimed freak. Still, the fact that he can just say shit like that? Pretty impressive.

But then Kenneth is telling Connor to calm down, and Evan is retreating in on himself, and Julia’s saying something catty, and the moment is over.

 

By the time 5:50 rolls around, Jared’s bored enough to put a bullet in his brain. “How do you _do_ this twice a week?” he asks Evan, who, as per usual, is waiting for everybody else to leave to avoid a cluster at the door. “I almost fell asleep, like, five times.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Evan says, and, as the girl who had sneered at Jared (Winona, he’d learned) leaves, finally stands up and grabs his binder. “You get used to it, I guess.”

“Very helpful, Evan. I appreciate it.” Jared yawns and stretches tired arms with a grunt, then stands up and snags his own binder from the table. “You're telling me I have to live through another six months of this?”

“Well, typically that's only the minimum,” Evan says as he heads for the door. “It might take even longer.”

Jared groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses slightly. “Oh, that's great. Really superb.”

He's silent on the rest of the way back to the car, turning over the events of the day in his mind. He's officially Done Therapy (no coming back from that!), and he officially hates it. Okay, so maybe he displays some symptoms of depression and anxiety, but does that really mean he needs to be here?

The sun is beginning to set when the two of them step outside; Jared squints up at it, then lowers his gaze to where it reflects off the roof of a familiar car. “Hey,” he says, nudging Evan, “it's your giiiirlfriend.”

When Evan looks up and catches sight of Zoe in the driver's seat, he freezes, clutching his binder tighter against his chest. “She's not my _girlfriend,”_ he hisses, elbowing Jared in the ribs. “I just think she's cool. And not in front of Connor!” He gestures toward the aforementioned lone wolf, who's now climbing into the car beside his sister.

Jared rolls his eyes, though he's not actually frustrated with Evan. “Whatever. Now, c'mon; I was actually planning on getting some homework done tonight, so I need to get you back home.”

As the Murphys’ car disappears into the distance, though, Jared can't help but feel his focus dragged there, whether he likes it or not. Hey, if nothing else, at least he'll be able to figure out whatever the hell Connor's problem is.

“Jared?”

Jared blinks as Evan waves a hand in front of his face. “Right,” he says. “C'mon, let's go.”

 

* * *

  
  


Jared’s gaze flits from one portion of the ceiling to another, eyes dragging over the off-white bumps that freckle it. His mattress is hard beneath him- he hates sleeping on that stupid thing; half the time he defaults to the living room couch- and, although there’s lo-fi music streaming from the speakers of his laptop, he can’t quite find comfort in it.

Some would say he’s lonely.

The song fades out and is replaced by another, the same banjos and soft voice. Jared grabs his phone from his nightstand and checks the notifications: nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. What was he expecting? For Evan to IM him? Nothing from his mom, either, and his dad… well, Jared doesn’t want to talk to him, anyway.

(Would anyone even notice if he disappeared?)

The concept makes Jared’s face contort into a scowl. What kind of question is that? Of course they would. Of… course they would. He’s got friends. He’s got plenty of friends! Evan, yes, but then there’s the guys from camp. ...The ones who never talk to him during the school year and who forget his name by the time they all see each other again.

(Would anyone give a shit?)

Well, obviously. Of course. At the very least, Even would be inconvenienced. He’d have to take an Uber to therapy.

(What if he just-)

No.

(What if?)

No.

Maybe.

Jared closes his eyes tight, blindly reaching out to slam his laptop shut. The music continues for a few moments longer, then stops.

 

* * *

  
  


Meetings are from 3:00 to 5:50 on Mondays and Thursdays, and they're the highlight of Jared's day. That's the impression that he's allowed his mom to have, anyway; he's never actually technically said a good word about it, just nods and smiles, but she seems to think it's amazing for him.

It's not.

“Suicidal ideation?” Well, he doesn’t want to shoot himself, so. “Self-injurious behaviors?” Does cranking the heat all the way up in the shower count as self-injury? It calms him down, helps him think. If it hurts, well, whatever, it works. “Do you want to take time to talk?” Uh, hell, no.

“Why do you keep coming?” Evan asks one day during break. “You're clearly not getting much out of it.”

Jared pops a chip in his mouth from the bag he'd bought down at the vending machines. “Uh, because my mom makes me?” he answers through a full mouth, mostly to get a rise out of Evan. “You know this. Why else would I come?”

Evan grimaces, just as Jared had hoped. “Yeah, but you could just drop me off and go to a coffee shop or something,” he says, echoing his thoughts on that very first day of therapy. “There's gotta be a reason you're actually here.”

Jared scans the room, looking for an answer that probably won't come to him. “I don't know,” he says, and sets the bag of chips aside. As he does, the door opens with a _clunk,_ and there he is: Connor, returning from a smoke break. Well, there's always him. Jared has to admit that, as nosy as it may sound, it _has_ been interesting getting to know him.

“What’re you looking at?” Connor grumbles, barely loud enough for Jared to hear. Jared just shrugs in response. Honestly, the guy’s getting to be not so scary, now that Jared knows what he’s all about. Mysteries have lifted, been given diagnoses; creepy, shadowy Connor has become, slowly but surely, just a boy with bipolar disorder. With a touch of smugness, Jared muses on how he must be one of the only people at school to know him like this.

From beside him, Evan chuckles; Jared practically has to drag his attention over to him from Connor. “What? What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing, just…”

“Just?” Jared narrows his eyes. A non-nervous laugh from Evan is a rare sight to see in public, and a sweet one, but now he just sounds sketchy.

Evan tugs on the sleeve of Jared’s button-down, and Jared leans in obediently. So close, and quietly enough for nobody else to hear it, he whispers, “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s into a Murphy.”

Jared’s face heats up with a blush, and he frowns, jerking away from Evan. “Um, what?” He’s not in love with Connor, not the way Evan is with Zoe. He just thinks he’s interesting, and maybe a little less scary, a little more warm, than people think he is. Jared snorts and turns away. “You’re delusional.”

As eyes all around the room- including Connor’s- turn toward Evan, he stammers out, “Sorry, I just- I just, I don’t know, was making an observation, you know? I just thought…”

“Evan, hey, it’s okay,” Jared says, placing a hand on Evan’s shoulder, which sags beneath his touch. “It’s just- that’s not true. It’s not like that.”

...Right?

 

* * *

  
  


Jared shouldn’t like guys. It’s fine that Evan does, and it’s fine that Connor does, but Jared shouldn’t like guys. His eyes shouldn’t linger on their jawlines; they shouldn’t be what he thinks about at night. And yet… and yet.

There are so many shoulds and shouldn’ts in Jared’s life. They crush him sometimes, make it hard to breathe (or is that his binder?), and hang over his head like… like… He frowns up at the ceiling (same shit, different day.) Is it too cliche to say it’s like a dark cloud hanging over his head? Because that’s certainly what it feels like.

Something’s gonna have to give. Because how is he going to live with all these impossible guidelines? Sometimes he just doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

There’s one thing Jared has been trying to ignore, to shove away and forget it ever happened: that Winona chick’s blatant transphobia. Okay, so he shouldn’t call her a ‘chick’, but if she’s not going to respect him, why should he respect her? (Another correction: he never stands up to her, which, in most people’s minds, probably counts as respect. His rebellion is only in his head.)

“I’ve been struggling with my sexuality,” he says, though it practically has to be forced out of him. He’s supposed to take time to talk more in-depth about stuff at least once a week, but usually he makes up a fake problem to solve: he’s stressed out about school (sorta true, but not a big enough deal to need therapy about it), his dad is mad at him (also sorta true, but he’s used to that by now), et cetera, et cetera.

“Um. How so?” Evan asks. One of his Kenneth-enforced goals is to speak up and give feedback for everyone, and, while two and a half words is pretty weak, it probably counts.

“Like…” Ugh. “Like, I feel bad for liking guys when boys are supposed to like girls, and… I’m a boy.” As he says it, he becomes acutely aware of the pressure of his binder against his chest.

Across the table, Winona scoffs and rolls her eyes, grumbling, “Barely.”

Jared closes his own tight, trying to ignore it, and it almost works- until Connor pipes up. “Hey, Winona?”

“Mm-hmm?” Winona’s voice is disinterested, nonchalant.

“Why are you such a heinous bitch, um, _all the time?”_

Jared’s eyes snap open in shock. Connor standing up for him? What the hell is going _on_ today? He should say something, he really should, but he can’t get the words out. What would he even say?

“Connor, that’s highly inappropriate language,” Kenneth says, but it falls on uncaring ears.

“Oh, you’d know,” Winona hisses at Connor. “You’re a relentless asshole. You know that, right?”

“Winona!”

“Yeah? At least I’m not a transphobe.” Connor crosses his arms, and, after another moment of glaring daggers at Winona, glances over at Jared. There’s genuine sympathy in those eyes… which is bizarre on him.

Jared swallows as he watches the scene unfold before him: Kenneth sending Connor and Winona outside, threatening them both with discharge; Evan placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it; two girls whose names he can’t recall in this state whispering to each other and glancing at the door.

Why would Connor risk expulsion from the program just for him? He’s nobody. He may as well not be there, or anywhere. Could it be that Connor actually cares about him? He breathes a raw, humorless laugh- likely story. ...Why does that thought distress him so much?

As Jared returns to reality, the realization of what just happened sinks in, and he shakes his head in a futile attempt to clear it. There’s a tightness in his chest beyond the normal. What the hell is-

Oh. _Oh._

“Evan,” he says slowly, “you may have had a point.”

 

_Oh, my gd._

_i know._

_You’re in love with Connor._

_I KNOW._

_I can’t believe i was finally right about something._

_this is no time for self-deprecation evan_

_this sucks ass_

_How come?_

_because he’ll never like me back????_

_You don’t know that!_

_At least you know he likes boys._

_okay true but like_

_dude._

_picture him._

_Okay._

_now picture me_

_...Okay?_

_What’s so bad about you?_

_i’ve said too much bye_

_I know you have feelings, Jared._

_that’s a slur_

_What?_

_feelings is a slur_

_Why are you so hard to talk to?_

_Dude, it’s okay to have a crush on a guy, if that’s what you’re worried about._

_kinda but it’s also like_

_what am i even DOING_

_like… connor murphy dude_

_y’know. the school's resident crazy mf._

_You and I both know he’s not that bad._

_yeah i know i guess it just_

_takes some getting used to?_

_Right._

_I can be your wingman, if you want._

_ >you _

_ >being a wingman _

_Don’t you greentext me._

_lmao_

_thanks tho ig_

_Yeah, no problem._

_I know I’m not good at comforting people but y’know like._

_It’s gonna be okay. You know that, right?_

_yeah i guess._

_thanks b_

_No problem._

_Oh, I just said that._

_I meant “you’re welcome”._

_anyway. how do you deal with having a crush_

_You’ve never had a crush before?_

_(User has deleted this message.)_

_not rly?_

_???_

_it’s nothing_

_Alright I guess._

_I don’t see why you’re asking me of all people for advice._

_I mean, you know how I am around Zoe._

_¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

_I guess the most I can say is…_

_Try not to stress out too much about it?_

_That’s shitty advice, sorry._

_it’s w.e_

_look i gotta do homework i’ll see you tmrw_

_See ya._

 

* * *

 

Another shameful thing about having a crush on Connor as that Jared hasn’t ever really… had a one-on-one conversation with him. Like, literally ever. That needs to change, but it’s not like Jared knows how to talk to people. There’s a reason he-

No, he has friends. He definitely for sure has friends that aren’t Evan.

...Anyway. He needs to fix this, stat- even if his nervous heart screams _no._

“Hey, I think I’m gonna talk to Connor about what happened last week,” he says to Evan about halfway through the drive to therapy. “Y’know, thank him. Maybe have a conversation with him for once in my fuckin’ life.”

“Probably a good idea,” Evan says, looking up from his phone. (What’s he even doing on his phone? Jared knows damn well he wouldn’t have any notifications, either.) “Um, are you gonna be good on your own? Like, do you need moral support?”

Jared eyes Evan for a moment before turning back to the road. “No offense, Evan, but you’re not very good for moral support.”

Evan exhales in a sigh. “Oh, thank God. He still kinda scares me.”

“Uh-huh. Wasn’t it you who, just the other day, said that he’s a lot better than everyone thinks?”Jared quirks an eyebrow, smirking.

“I mean…”

“Alright, wuss.” There’s fondness in his voice, though, and Evan breaks out into a laugh. Whatever the outcome of this silly little crush is, at least he’s got Evan by his side.

 

“Hey, Connor, wait up.”

Connor turns around, long hair falling into his face, and halts when he spots Jared. “Uh-huh?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in what looks like suspicion. Shit, shit, shit.

“It’s nothing bad,” Jared assures him, clenching and unclenching his fists. The action probably doesn’t do wonders for his ‘I’m not going to punch and/or otherwise hurt you’ case, but sue him- he’s nervous. Of all the boys to crush on, why did it have to be one of the most intimidating people he knows? “Uh, look, I just wanted to thank you for the other day.”

Connor’s suspicious expression falls, replaced by one of mild surprise. “The other- oh.” He scratches idly at his wrist, scanning Jared up and down with analytical eyes, then continues, “It’s nothing. She’s been a bitch to basically everyone in there; I don’t know how she hasn’t been kicked out yet.”

“Yeah, but… I guess that’s sorta the first time anybody has stood up for me?” Jared sticks his hands in his pockets. “So, thanks. Really.”

Miracle of all miracles, Connor actually _smiles._ It’s… charming, no matter how bizarre it looks on his face. It’s gone in a moment, though, and Jared finds himself aching at the loss of it. “Really, it’s no big deal.” Connor worries his lip- which doesn’t do anything kind to Jared’s heart- and adds, “I’d do it again.”

It's Jared's turn to smile this time, a hesitant but genuine thing. “Well… thanks. I'd stand up for you, too.” He sucks at standing up for himself, so God knows how well he would stand up even for Connor, but there are things one has to verbally reciprocate, and this is one of them.

“Thanks.” And there's that smile again, good God. It's gonna kill him one day. “Look, um, nice talk, but Zoe's gonna be ticked off if I keep her waiting, so…”

Jared nods, closing his eyes for a moment, then says, “No prob. I actually have to drive Evan home, so. ...See you later?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, “see ya.”

 

Things change with Connor from then on. With Evan in tow, Jared sits one chair closer to him than usual, then another. They nod at each other in the hallway. They give each other thoughtful, honest feedback. And…

As Jared walks out of the meeting room one day, following Evan, he spots Connor leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. “Jared,” he calls out, and Jared stops in his tracks, heart racing. Images race through his mind: Connor taking his hand, Connor reaching out and taking him by the face to kiss him, Connor, Connor, Connor…

It goes without saying that none of these things happen. What _does_ happen, though, is better than Jared could have ever hoped for. “Do you have a pen?” Connor asks, relinquishing his hands from the grip of his pockets.

“Uh.” Jared opens his binder and grabs his pen from where he’s stuck it in the front pocket. Inspired by Connor, he’s taken to doodling during sessions; he’ll never be as good as him, of course, but he’s been getting better. “Yeah, here,” he says, handing it off to Connor.

Connor grabs Jared’s arm- _Connor touching him-_ and pulls it toward him, which honestly hurts a little, but Jared couldn’t give less of a fuck. With scratchy handwriting, he scrawls out- is that a phone number? Jared’s heart thump-thump-thumps in his chest. What does it mean? What does it all mean?

“There,” Connor says, dropping Jared’s arm. “Text me sometime, if you want.”

“I- uh. Yeah,” is all Jared can say. He scrambles to build back his walls, his nonchalant exterior, and gives a cocky grin that he hopes is convincing (but probably isn’t).

As Connor stalks off, putting his hands back in his pockets, Jared stares. He can’t help it- he’s just gotten the phone number of the guy he’s totally crushing on (ugh, feelings). It was different when he was crushing on Evan (yes, he sure did do that, but he’d rather not talk about it), because _obviously_ he has Evan’s number, but Connor… he always figured it was a lost cause. After an all-too-enthusiastic chuckle and a fist pump, he speedwalks to catch up to Evan.

When Jared reaches the lobby, Evan looks up from his phone and blinks. “So, what did Connor want with you?” he asks, and Jared is unable to keep back a grin.

“Here, look.” He stretches out his arm, and Evan stands up to grab it and inspect it.

“Holy shit.”

“Right!?” If he weren’t so crushingly mortified by its existence, Jared would puff out his chest with pride. “Looks like I’m kicking your ass in the Murphy crush department.”

Evan rolls his eyes, as he does so often around him. “I’ll get there! Someday I’ll tell her. At least then I’ll get an answer.”

“Very bisexual of you,” Jared says, and claps Evan on the shoulder. “Now, c’mon. You wanna go to DQ or something?”

Evan’s face brightens, and he nods with exuberance. “Why would I say no?”

 

* * *

 

The ceiling again, an ache in his chest again. Jared squeezes his eyes shut tight, sighs a pathetic exhalation, presses the balls of his hands to his eyes. Then, something occurs to him: the number on his arm. His eyes snap open, and he grabs his phone off his nightstand. Oh, shit. What if he makes an idiot of himself? What if he says the wrong thing?

But he can’t keep himself back. His heart thuds in his chest as he types out a message:

 

_hey, it’s jared_

_you around?_

 

He’s going to lose his fucking mind if Connor doesn’t reply right now immediately. Jeez, he’s turning into Evan- nervous, sweaty, ridiculously in love. That won’t stop him from making fun of him, though. Obviously.

The answer comes soon enough, thank God.

 

_yeah i’m here, hey jared._

_what’s up?_

 

Jared swallows, biting the inside of his cheek until it hurts too much to continue. He didn’t think he’d get this far, shit.

 

_not much_

_was just laying around_

_hbu?_

_same, pretty much._

_bored as hell. glad you texted._

 

Jared’s heart soars. It’s so simple, three little words, but they mean the world.

 

_yeah, well, i’m glad you answered._

_i would ask how’s life but like_

_we have group therapy together_

_i already know how life is_

_yep. same shit as always._

_seems like you can empathize at least._

_oh absolutely_

_ssdd amirite_

_ssdd?_

_same shit different day_

_not a stephen king fan huh_

_not really, no._

_should i be?_

_if you don’t mind that someone pisses their pants in like every book_

_hell, who knows, maybe you’re into that_

 

Internally, Jared berates himself. He can’t just break out the sex jokes like that; Connor’s probably one of those guys who hates them or something, not because he seems like the type, but because it’d be just his luck.

 

_GOD_

_is that a good GOD or a bad GOD_

_a good one._

_let me make this very clear though: i am not into that._

 

Which is the best news Jared has received all day.

Their conversation takes twists and turns, swerving from books to movies based off of books to movie soundtracks to music… As it turns out, Connor has a similar music taste to his; not quite as lo-fi, but still stuff he can dig.

_how about… pup?_

_YES i love pup……_

_finally someone with Taste… i have to put up with evan’s music all the time_

_you two seem like you’re pretty close._

_well, i’ve known him for ages_

_don’t tell him i said this but he’s probably my best friend_

_why would you nto want him to know that?_

_*not_

_¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

_yeah fair._

_look i’m gonna go to bed (and by that i mean smoke a bowl and contemplate existence)_

_so._

_g’night connor_

_it was nice talking to you, thanks for that_

_yeah, anytime._

_maybe we should get together and do that sometime._

_what, smoke pot?_

_is that a problem?_

 

It is most certainly _not_ a problem. Right now, Jared can’t think of anything he’d rather do than smoke pot with Connor. He can’t let him know that, though.

 

_no, not at all_

_i just thought it was against the rules to “engage in substance use” with people from group_

_you know damn well i don’t care about those rules._

_besides, who says we’d have to tell them?_

_good point_

_anyway i’ll let you go, have a good smoke_

_thanks._

_goodnight, jared._

 

Good night, indeed. That night, Jared dreams of tenderness, of comfort. He dreams of Connor.

 

* * *

 

“Connor,” Jared calls as he exits yet another unbearably long therapy session. Evan turns to look at him, cocking his head in confusion, but Jared simply holds up a finger: _one sec._

Connor, halfway to Zoe’s car, pauses and twists around at the sound of his name. “Yeah? What is it?” he asks as Jared approaches.

“Um, were you serious about, like…” After looking around to check that none of the other group members are around, Jared mimics puffing on a joint. “You know, like how we were talking the other night?”

Connor laughs at that, and Jared’s heart can’t help but flutter in his chest. (He’s gay! He’s capital G Gay!) “Why would I not be serious?” He glances over Jared’s shoulder at something and adds, “Evan can come, too.”

Jared barks a laugh of his own at the prospect of Evan doing drugs. Sure, they’ve gotten drunk together a couple times, and maybe the weed would do his anxiety some good, but the severity of the word ‘drugs’ has put Evan off of them for years. “Ah, no, I don’t think Evan will be joining us,” he says. “Anyway, I was thinking- maybe tomorrow night? My mom’s out visiting my uncle, and my dad finally moved out.”

Connor shrugs and smiles that subdued, quiet smile of his again. “Sure, sounds good. Uh, I’ll need your address…”

“I’ll text it to you,” Jared says, and gives him a killer combo of a wink and finger guns. (Gotta keep it classy with the guys.)

Connor nods, collecting strands of long brown hair behind his ear. “Got it.” He turns to glance over his shoulder and continues, “Look, Zoe’s going to be pissed at me if I keep her any longer, so.”

“Wait,” Jared says, barely resisting the urge to reach out and grab Connor by the arm. “Um, why does she give you rides? I thought you had your license.”

Connor’s eyes widen nigh imperceptibly, and he stares holes into his wrist as he plays with the bracelets there, the ones that Jared knows hide things he wouldn’t want to see. “No reason,” he says- a blatant lie. “Anyway, like I said…”

Jared is silent for a moment before he nods and turns back to Evan. “See ya,” he calls over his shoulder.

“See ya,” Connor says softly, and Jared pauses for a brief second.

What’s going on with Connor?

 

By the time the next evening comes along, Jared’s all but forgotten about Connor’s shadiness. (Just that specific time, not his general shadiness. That’s hard to forget.)

He shows up at Jared’s doorstep about half past nine, and Jared’s never been more excited to hear the doorbell ring. Connor Murphy, in his own house. ...Oh shit, Connor in his house- the Murphys are _loaded,_ his house is probably so shabby compared to his…

Jared sighs, rubbing his temples, and tries to forget about comparisons. Besides, his house isn’t _that_ bad. Another ring of the doorbell startles him out of his thoughts, and he bolts down the stairs to get the door.

“Hey,” Connor says simply when he opens it.

“Hey. You got the stuff?”

Connor gives him a flat stare. “No, Jared, I left it at home.” After a second, his face splits into a smile, and he grabs a small bag out of his pocket. “It’s right here.”

“Cool.” After a few seconds, Jared comes back to his senses and steps aside. “Oh. Come on in.”

“Actually, I was thinking- did you wanna do it outside?” Connor asks, pocketing the weed again. “It’s sorta nice to just look up at the sky and think about stuff. Or not think. Not thinking is nice, too.”

Oh, God. Jared can’t honestly think of anything he’d like better than to lie down and stargaze with Connor, high or not. “Yeah, sure,” he says, a little too enthusiastic. He holds back a wince at his own rampant homosexuality, but Connor doesn’t seem to think anything of it.

“Come on, then,” Connor says, and- holy shit- grabs Jared’s wrist, leading him around to the back yard. Jared can practically feel his skin burning- in a good way, not in a ‘heretic touches holy water’ way. If he were more poetic, he might compare Connor to that holy water, but he sort of loathes poetry.

Jared’s back yard is mostly flower beds-  his mom had gotten in the habit of gardening to cope with her failing marriage- so it’s a little hard to find a spot to sit. Eventually, Jared takes the lead and walks Connor over to a path of unused lawn and sits down, turning his head to face the stars, then something even better who’s lying right beside him.

“Pretty yard,” Connor remarks, unzipping his backpack.

“Pretty bong.” Jared eyes the contraption that Connor takes out of the bag; it’s clear glass, with purple streaks and swirls curling around its curves. Jared thought his bong would’ve been more utilitarian, but it’s sort of endearing to see something that delicate in Connor’s possession.

“Thanks, I guess,” Connor says. “I actually got it from a friend of mine, after he quit.” He pauses, swallows; his gaze flits somewhere over Jared’s shoulder.

“A friend?” Jared asks, running a hand through the grass on his other side.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Connor says, and clams up, not elaborating. “Anyway… let’s get this shit started, shall we?”

“We shall.” Jared smiles, hesitant- boy, he sure hopes he didn’t bring up any unpleasant memories; he has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Connor seems to have shaken it off, though; he grabs a bottle of water from his bag next and unscrews the lid, then pours some of the contents carefully into the bong. “Do you know how to use a bong?” he asks.

Jared shakes his head, almost embarrassed. “Um. I’ve never actually smoked before.”

Connor hums in acknowledgement and watches him a moment longer, then continues, “Well, you might not get high, then. Sorry about that.”

Jared shrugs. “Is it still fun if you don’t get high?”

“Fun enough, if you don’t mind me being miles away.” Connor takes the bowl out of the bong and begins to pack it, leaving Jared to watch his deft fingers with a longing he hasn’t felt in years. Shit, he can probably really do things with those. When Connor turns back, Jared looks away on instinct, then cautiously looks back to see the corner of his lips ticked up in a tiny smile. “So,” he says, “since you’re new, I’m going to pull the smoke for you.”

Normally, Jared would want to get his hands on it, just to take it for a test drive, but there’s something about the intimacy of that that makes his heart do stupid shit. “Okay,” he says simply.

Connor grabs a lighter- black with orange flowers- out of his bag and flicks it. Orange flame sparks into life; Jared watches Connor, entranced, as he lights a corner section of the herb and inhales, pulling smoke into the bong. Then, he places a hand over the opening at the top and hands it off to Jared. “Take the bowl out of the bong, then just breathe in and let it out,” he says.

Jared nods and takes the bong, then follows Connor’s instructions to the letter. Instead of exhaling the smoke smoothly, though, he nearly hacks up a lung, frantically handing the bong back to Connor. “Holy shit,” he wheezes. “I’m not sure I’m gonna be very good at this.”

Connor smiles again, and it might just be his imagination, but Jared almost senses a hint of affection in it. “You’ll get the hang of it. I did the same thing my first time.” He claps Jared on the back, which nearly kills him. Is he going to freak out every time Connor touches him? Probably.

“Cool,” is all Jared manages to get out. “Alright. Cool.”

 

And he does get the hang of it eventually, although Connor continues to pull the smoke for him. It feels good at first, a sort of rebellion, but then Connor is laughing about something and all Jared can do is blurt, “I kinda hate myself.”

“Huh?” Connor turns his head, hair brushing against dewy grass, to look at Jared.

“I mean, you probably already know. But I hate myself.” Jared stares up at the sky: the cold, unforgiving darkness of space, the pinpricks of heat-swollen stars. He’s so _insignificant,_ nothing more than a speck on this stupid shitty earth. And hey, isn’t weed supposed to make you feel good? So what the hell is this, then?

“Oh, shit.” Connor sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I forgot to tell you. Sometimes people get really depressed when they smoke.”

So he’s even fucked up at having a good time. Excellent. Really and truly just fucking great and swell. “Oh,” he says. “Okay. Cool.” And for some reason, his mouth keeps going without his permission, grinding his cool, nonchalant persona to sand: “Can’t even get being stoned right. It’s like… the thing I’m best at doing is doing things wrong.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out wrong- twisted and cold, a mockery of his usual ugly laugh.

When he turns to face Connor, all that he receives is a stare. There’s an odd look in his eyes, but Jared can’t decipher it in this state, double fisting sadness and highness.

The words keep coming, a waterfall from his mouth, but at least waterfalls are pretty. This is just… pathetic. “And, you know, it’s almost like-”

“Jared.”

“- my mom and dad and, hell, even Evan-”

“Jared.”

“- would be better off if I just… wasn’t around.” What the hell is he doing? What is he _saying?_ He was supposed to keep this shit bottled up, shove it under his bed, ignore it… but here he is, spilling his guts to the person he most wants to believe he has his shit together.

 _“Jared.”_ Connor’s voice is cool, but not malicious- there’s almost a hint of concern in it. “You don’t want to die.”

“I…” Does he? Jared’s not sure. He’d like to disappear, that’s for sure. But die? “I don’t know.”

“You don’t,” Connor insists.

“And how would you know?”

“Because I tried.” Connor turns his head away again, stares up at the sky. Is it just as cold to him as it is to Jared? “That’s why Zoe has to drive me everywhere. I tried to crash my car into a ditch and off myself. Dumb plan, depressive episode. But, y’know, as I got closer to crashing I realized.. I didn’t wanna die. I wanted to not be in pain anymore, but I didn’t wanna die. And so I swerved and hit a tree, and here we are. I completely totaled the thing, but, y’know, I’m not dead.”

The fact that he almost lost Connor- _the_ Connor, who he’s already come to love so damn much- before he even got to know him hits Jared like a punch in the chest, and he takes a deep, shaking breath. “Jesus,” he says. “I didn’t- I mean, I had no idea.” Well, he knows logically that Connor probably wants to kill himself, or has wanted to before, but… it’s still hard to hear.

“I should probably take you inside,” Connor says, and lifts himself into a sitting position. “You’re crying.”

Jared touches his cheek and realizes, to his intense mortification, that they’re stained with tears. This whole night has been ridiculous. “Alright,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Take me inside.”

 

When he wakes up in the morning, Connor is gone, but there’s a note on the foot of Jared’s bed:

_sorry about last night. let’s do something else sometime._

It’s a small condolence, but it’s something. He’ll take it.

  
  


_So, how’d the smoking weed thing go?_

_horribly_

_apparently some ppl get like_

_rly depressed when they smoke LOL_

_And you’re one of them?_

_That sucks._

_yeah i totally embarrassed myself_

_as if i don’t embarrass myself enough at therapy_

_i sorta told him about a lot of Personal Feelings which, as you know, is awful_

_Oh, my Gd._

_You didn’t tell him..?_

_oh no i didn’t lol i could never show my face again if i had_

_but now he sorta knows what you know_

_about how insecure i am ydg_

_and even you’re on thin ice re: me being comfortable w u knowing that_

_so one can imagine the stress i’m under_

_Wow, you’re so kind._

_I hope you feel better, though._

_oh yeah i guess im fine now but it’s gonna be like_

_super fucking awkward next time i see him_

_so that’s stellar superb excellent etc etc_

_I doubt he’ll give you any shit._

_It would be super hypocritical if he did. He’s the most messed up person I know._

_Oh shit, that was, like, so rude, jeez. Don’t tell him I said that._

_oh yeah i was planning on it_

_going up to the guy i like and being like_

_“hey my friend over there thinks you’re messed up hehehe”_

_Okay, yeah, that was a stupid thing to say._

_just a bit_

_anyway the point is don’t smoke w cute boys_

_or ig maybe a girl in your case_

_if you have like any vulnerabilities ever_

_I’ll keep that in mind._

  
  


* * *

 

To say this day isn’t going well for Jared is an understatement. Now, don’t get him wrong, most days- especially therapy days- happen to royally suck. But this day in particular just seems to be testing how much one man can handle. First of all, it’s raining. Secondly, Evan was out sick today, and he doesn’t have any classes with Connor this semester, so he had absolutely nobody to talk to. Third, his mom needed the car, so he had to take a Lyft to therapy.

“Hey, uh. You need a ride?”

Jared looks up from his phone, where he’s ordering his Lyft back home, to see Connor with his hands in his pockets, binder tucked under one arm. “Uh. What?”

“Sorry, I just… you’re on Lyft-” Connor gestures with his head toward Jared’s phone- “so I thought I’d ask if you needed a ride; your house is only, like, three blocks from mine, and I…” He clears his throat, tucks hair behind his ear- a nervous tic? “Just wanted to offer. I don’t think Zoe would take issue with it.”

Jared blinks. Every bone in his body screams _yes, yes, a thousand times yes,_ but what if he makes an idiot out of himself like the last time he tried to hang out with Connor? Zoe would be there, at least, but that has its downsides, too… But Connor is looking at him expectantly, and he can’t hesitate any longer. “Sure,” he says.

And there’s that smile again- small, not betraying much, but there. “Cool,” Connor says. “Come on, then.”

 

The Volvo is pristine, really, which only serves to make Jared feel like shit about his own messy SUV, the floor coated with McDonald’s bags and suchlike. Zoe has a tight grip on the steering wheel as Jared slides into the leather backseat. There’s something about the air in that Volvo that strikes him as unsettling, although the car itself is expensive and gorgeous. There’s just the undeniable feeling of a past that Jared’s not entitled to sunken into it.

Riding with the Murphys is… a strange experience. There’s this tension between Connor and Zoe that’s almost palpable. She doesn’t say a word to him, but she glances at him out of the rear view mirror once in a while, as if checking to make sure he’s still there. There’s a disconnected worry in her eyes as she does it, like it’s a force of habit.

Connor's never looking back.

It doesn’t take long for the silence to get under Jared’s skin. He’s never liked awkward silences; they’re too, well, awkward. He racks his brain for something, _anything,_ to say, but only comes up with, “Uh… taxes?” Great. Excellent and cool.

There’s silence for a few moments before Zoe snorts a breath of laughter and says, “You’re right. He _is_ funny.”

“I- huh?” Jared shifts in his seat, almost self-conscious. For one, he’s never really been called funny before, but also- “You talk about me to your family?”

Connor shrugs, but- is that a hint of nerves that Jared senses? “It came up in conversation,” he says. “My parents interrogated me about where I was that time I hung out at your house.”

“And you told them I was funny?” Jared can't keep back a smile. His crush thinks he's funny and said so without being prompted- it's a dream come true.

“Yeah, well, you've made me laugh before, so you must be.”

Before Connor can say anything more, though, Zoe interrupts the conversation: “Which way do I turn here, Jared?”

The moment’s over, then, but Jared still cherishes it as the one good thing that’s come out of today.

 

Jared opens the door with a _clunk_ and steps outside into the chilly, post-rain day. At least the smell is nice- petrichor, he learned once from some TV show or another- but he’s not looking forward to all the mud.

Only when she calls out does he notice his mother ascending the step to their front door. “Jared!” she says. “Who is this?” She gestures toward Connor, who’s gotten out of the back seat and was heading for the passenger’s side door, but now has stopped in his tracks.

“I’m Connor,” he says after a couple seconds. “Connor Murphy.”

Jared squeezes his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that his mother doesn’t remember the printer story from all those years ago. For once in his life, he lucks out on that one.

“That’s great! See, Jared, I told you you’d make friends at therapy!” Jared’s mother sounds happy, but there’s an emptiness in her eyes that sends a chill to the pit of Jared’s stomach. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Come on in.”

“Oh, uh, he was just-”

“Alright, sure,” Connor says, glancing over to Zoe in the car, who gives him a nod.

As he walks past Jared to the open door, Jared follows him first with his wide eyes, then with his feet. God knows he’ll fuck this up like he did the last time they tried to hang out like normal people. (Seriously, who gets sad while smoking weed? Isn’t it supposed to be good for your mood?)

When Jared and Connor reach the kitchen, Jared’s mother is already pouring herself a glass of wine. “You kids have fun upstairs,” she says, smiling a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Dinner will be ready in… um… an hour, if you want to stay.”

“...Right,” Connor says, and his eyes flick over to meet Jared’s. “Let’s just… go up to your room.”

Jared nods a little too vigorously. “Yeah. Yep, yeah.”

Jared’s room is painted olive drab; he’s come to hate the color after spending so much time there doing absolutely jack shit. At least it’s not pink anymore- he had to fight for ages on that front. “Well, here’s where the magic happens,” he says as he opens the door for Connor, despite the fact that absolutely zero magic has ever happened in here. Well, okay, there was that time with Evan where they kissed just to see what it felt like, but that was four years ago and decidedly un-magical.

Connor scans the room with his eyes, taking it all in before he steps inside. “It’s nice,” he says, which is a blatant lie, because clothes are scattered all over the floor, and there’s a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the nightstand. (These things happen.)

Jared reaches to his shoulder and fiddles with the strap of his binder, a nervous habit. It makes him feel safe, reminds him of the first time he got one. “Yeah, um. Sorry about the mess.”

Connor shrugs as he sits down on the bed. “Don’t worry. Mine’s not any better.” He crosses one leg over the other and looks around at the walls, nearly covered with posters of musicians. “Actually, it’s pretty cool.”

Gotta keep it cool, gotta keep it chill. Jared manages to keep his smile un-gay, not revealing anything (or, at least, he hopes), even though every compliment from Connor means the world. “Hey, thanks, Connor,” he says, and takes a seat on the bed next to him.

“No problem.” Connor is silent for a few moments before he adds, “So, your mom…”

“I know,” Jared says, and flops backward onto the bed. “I used to be able to drink whenever I wanted, but now she’s always in the liquor cabinet. It’s a pain.”

“It’s concerning.”

Jared considers it for a moment. Alcoholism _does_ run in the family, which he only knows because of a conversation he’d overheard on Passover a few years back. “I… guess,” he says. “She’ll be fine, though.”

“Yeah, well, I know how these things go.” Connor leans back to lie against the mattress as well, staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, this got deep,” Jared says, attempting to bring levity to the situation. “What d’you wanna do? Or are we just gonna armchair diagnose my mom with alcoholism?”

Connor shrugs. “Whatever you want. It's your house.”

Jared sits up again, and his eyes dart around, looking desperately for something to do. “I think I have a couple two-player games,” he says as they fall on his PlayStation. “Or we could play Minecraft or something.”

“Minecraft, huh?” Connor turns to face Jared's computer desk and eyes it dubiously. “I played that when I was, what, eleven? I didn't really think people our age still did.”

Trying and failing not to be embarrassed, and ending up a little red in the face, Jared says, “Plenty of people our age play it. It's a modern classic! I actually find that it's good for the soul.”

“Yeah, alright,” Connor says, and straightens into a sitting position. “Then let's see what you've got.”

Oh, thank God, someone who will enable his slight obsession with building shit. (It's soothing!) Jared grabs his laptop from off his comforter and sits in its place, titling his head as the signal for Connor to scoot closer. He fumbles with the thing for a few seconds, sensing Connor's eyes on him as he struggles to do an objectively simple task. Eventually, he manages to open the game, and looks to Connor with a shaky smile. Why is he so nervous? (Don't answer that. He already knows.)

Jared sheepishly clicks on his most recent world, simply titled ‘Castle’. “I, uh, like to build?” he says as the game, although achingly slow, begins to load. As the blocks and shapes render, Connor is presented with a painstakingly detailed and beautifully intricate castle structure. “I don’t have much else to do, and it’s good stress relief.”

Connor leans in and stares at the screen for a few moments, then gives an impressed nod. “Hey, that’s actually pretty cool,” he says. “I was always shit at this game. Died every ten minutes.”

“That’s why you gotta play it in creative mode,” Jared says. “Fuck zombies, man.”

To Jared’s unending delight, Connor actually looks _interested_ as Jared shows him his various creations. The pang of so rarely being acknowledged and liked (because, while he loves Evan, he’s just one person) isn’t so sharp with Connor beside him. And, when Connor rests his head on his shoulder, letting his hair brush against Jared’s cheek, it’s the best he’s felt in months.

 

At around 10, a _ping_ startles Jared out of his reverie, and he turns to see Connor grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Your parents?” he asks. Not to sound rude, but he’s not sure Connor would get a text from anyone else.

Connor unlocks his phone, and, after reading what’s on the screen, hums an affirmative. “They want me to come home. They go through these phases where they _really_ try to keep me on short leash, but then they kinda give up and hope therapy just does its thing.”

“Ah.” Jared’s face falls, and he sets his laptop aside, shutting it with a _click._ Somehow, he’d gotten it into his brain that Connor could stay over and maybe, just maybe, still be there in the morning. (Then again, Connor doesn’t seem the type to stick around. Cue the Wham! music.) “Uh, alright then. I’ll lead you out.”

Jared really should have seen it coming, but the sight that greets him downstairs still shakes him. His mother is shitfaced, lying on the couch and wiping away tears as she looks at an old photo album she must have dug out from a box in the attic. Great and fantastic.

“Uh, hey, Mom,” Jared says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and desperately wishing he could just disappear already. “Connor was just leaving.” He glances at Connor, who gives him a _God help us_ look. “I know,” he whispers. “She just gets like this sometimes.”

There's a long pause where Jared's mother is silent, just flipping through pages and sniffling. Then, she speaks. “You know,” she says, not responding to his announcement, “I wish I’d had another kid.”

Jared has always wanted a younger sibling- hell, even an older one. Just someone to make the house less quiet, someone to fight with and hang out with and talk with. He’d always thought it’d be nice, a daydream he’d entertained even as a teenager, though by then he would’ve killed for a quiet house again. Anything but the screams of his mom and dad’s impending divorce.

After a pause: “Maybe then he would’ve stayed.”

Funny how dreams can die like that.

Jared’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t cry, and he… he _won’t,_ but that was a hell of a bomb to drop. Shattered dreams and all, he still tries to uphold any sort of facade for how _that_ just made him feel. He swallows and crosses his arms over his chest, staring holes into the floor. Being told he’s not enough in private is one thing, but in front of Connor? As he feels sick heat rise to his face, his eyes flit over to Connor again.

Connor’s eyes have this weird look in them that, if Jared is correct, might _actually_ be sympathy. It’s less that it’s surprising to get sympathy from Connor and more that the most he gets from people is usually pity, if that. Too mortified to keep looking at him, Jared simply mumbles, “Do you need a ride home?”

Connor shakes his head and says, “No, I’ll be fine.” He clears his throat, then gestures toward the door. “I guess I’d better get going.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be good,” Jared says. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then back. “See you later, then.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, and worries his lips. “I’ll see you later, Jared.”

 

_please don’t tell anyone abt what happened w my mom_

_who would i tell? you’re one of my only friends._

_actually, it’s basically just you._

_oh okay_

_sorry every time we hang out it ends up being shit lol_

_god is a teenage girl taking out her suppressed trauma on me_

_nice metaphor._

_and it’s okay. believe me, it wouldn’t be any more fun at my house._

_i’m sort of the family disappointment._

_one becomes that when they go to therapy, it seems_

_yeah._

_real talk, i hope you’re okay._

_oh don’t even sweat it lol she’s just being mom_

_alright, if you say so._

_goodnight, jared._

_gnight_

  
  


_i’ve got good news and bad news_

_which one do you wanna hear first_

_Uh oh._

_Let’s go with good._

_so_

_connor came over and watched me play minecraft_

_That’s a dream come true!_

_Which makes me particularly worried about the bad news._

_yeah bad news my mom got shitfaced and said some like_

_lowkey mortifying shit in front of connor_

_it’s ridiculous like._

_whenever we hang out it has to go south because god hates me_

_Gd doesn’t hate you, Jared._

_But that does suck._

_shrug emoji im too lazy to copy/paste_

_i wonder if it’s worth trying anymore_

_with connor i mean. don’t report me to kenneth_

_I didn’t think you were suicidal, don’t worry._

_At least you’re making better progress than I am with Zoe._

_Actually, you’re making better progress with Zoe, too. I assume you rode in her car._

_yeah she called me funny_

_i’m kinda kicking your ass_

_You’re right, but you shouldn’t say it._

_Anyway, I don’t think you should give up on Connor just because your mom sucks._

_don’t forget about the weed_

_Yeah, and the weed._

_I still feel like you should keep trying._

_I think you’re just about the only friend he has._

_If you stopped hanging out with him now, he’d just be sad._

_...der than normal._

_okay. i can do this_

_the insanely cool and charming and handsome papa j can do this_

_No comment._

_thanks for the vote of confidence_

_Anytime._

 

* * *

 

 

Spring fades into summer; jeans are replaced with cargo shorts; and flowers bloom in all different colors in Jared’s mother’s garden, the only thing that’s been keeping her sane lately. After the first two flukes with Connor hanging around, Jared’s got the hang of avoiding disaster: no weed, of course, and Connor either a) can’t go downstairs in the evening, if he’s staying overnight, or b) has to leave after dinner, if he’s not. No matter how understanding he is, Jared would rather die than have another incident like that one night.

The sun burns bright on the June afternoon that he and Connor visit the beach. Technically, it’s him, Connor, Evan, and Zoe, but Connor’s the one that his eyes are on. It’s a little hot with his binder, but he’ll grin and bear it for the view.

“You going in the water?” Jared asks as he slathers on sunscreen. He hates the texture of it, and how the taste always seems to get into his mouth somehow, but it’s better than getting a sunburn. (Once, when he was in the seventh grade, his family took a trip to San Diego, and the sunburn he got while swimming at La Jolla was bad enough that his mom almost took him to the hospital. Never again.)

Connor worries his bottom lip and stares down at the bracelets on his wrist for a moment before his gaze turns to his legs- he’s still wearing jeans, Jared notes. “I’ll sit this one out,” he says. As he gestures for Jared to give him the bottle of sunscreen, he adds, “You?”

Jared shakes his head and hands off the bottle. “I don’t really _do_ swimming.” If he had his way, he would love to swim around with Evan and Zoe, but the combo of chest dysphoria and insecurity about his weight punches him in the face every time he entertains the idea.

Connor seems to understand, because he nods without another word. In lieu of speaking, he lies back on the blue and white striped towel that Jared’s brought along, crossing his arms behind his head. “You know, I don’t think I’ve been to this beach in a good ten years,” he says, letting his eyes fall shut. “Used to come here with Zoe and my parents.”

Jared stares down at Connor for a few moments, trying (and failing) to not let his eyes linger on his torso, then looks out to the water. Zoe seems to be having fun- she’s kicking the water to splash Evan in the face. Maybe there’s hope for him yet. “She looks pretty happy out there,” Jared remarks, and lies down next to Connor, back warm against the fabric of his own towel. “Why did you stop coming?”

Connor hums as he considers the question. “I got bad,” he says after a few moments. “Didn’t want to go places with my family. They started to go without me, but my mom felt bad about it, so they decided to stop going altogether.”

“So why did you come here with me?” Jared asks. Could it be that he’s special? He probably doesn’t even mean that much to Connor, so why should he be, but… maybe. Maybe.

Connor shrugs and opens his eyes again, turning his head to face Jared. “Well, I like you a lot more than my family, for one.” With a slender finger, he begins to draw designs in the sand between their towels, first a swirl, then a few squiggles. “Plus…”

“‘Plus’?” Jared raises his eyebrows. “Plus what?”

After a few moments of silence, Connor shakes his head. “Nothing. Uh, I just like the view.”

Jared chuckles, runs a hand through his hair. “Then why aren’t you looking?”

Connor gives Jared a smile- lopsided, but beautiful nonetheless. It’s warmer than the towel, warmer than the sun. “No reason.”

 

“Jared, wake up.”

Jared nearly shrieks as Connor prods him in the shoulder, rousing him from his slumber. He must’ve fallen asleep just lying here next to him, which is surprising, because usually, Connor makes him feel absolutely electric. “Ugh. Hey, Connor,” he says, and adjusts his glasses so that, unlike him, they’re straight.

“Hey,” Connor replies, then gestures toward the shoreline with his head. “Evan and Zoe are getting out of the water.”

Jared straightens up into a sitting position and looks over as well, squinting against the sun. Sure enough, Evan and Zoe seem to be chatting up a storm as they head back to him and Connor. “They’re sure getting along well. Actually, I’m surprised Evan’s even getting any words out.”

“Well, Zoe is easy to talk to, if you’re not related to her,” Connor says, and scratches his scalp with bitten nails.

“No, it’s just…” Jared pauses. He _really_ shouldn’t tell Connor about Evan’s crush on Zoe. That’d just be a dick move, and, while he _is_ a dick, that’s a little out of bounds. “Never mind. It’s just nice, is all. Maybe the four of us can be friends.”

Connor scoffs and rests his elbows on his knees, letting his chin sit on one wrist. “Yeah, likely story. I don’t think Zoe would ever be friends with me. Not until I get better- _if_ I get better.”

Before he even registers what he’s doing, Jared places a hand on Connor’s bare back. It’s warm, warmer than he can stand, but he keeps it there despite every nerve in his body telling him to stop. “Let’s just say… if Evan of all people can talk to her, you can, too.”

Connor glances down at Jared’s arm, and, in a real and true miracle, his mouth quirks up into a tiny smile. “Thanks, Jared.” With his far hand, he starts up again with the doodles in the sand. Jared can’t make them out from his position.

When Evan and Zoe approach, Jared yanks his hand away from Connor, using it instead to help prop himself up. “What were you talking about?” Evan asks, one eyebrow raised. Shit, he must’ve caught him.

“Uh.” Jared glances at Connor out of the corner of his eye; Connor’s looking back with a _Please don’t tell them I have feelings_ expression in his eyes. “Nothing,” Jared says. “Just...did you want to get ice cream or something? As long as you’re done swimming.” He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, somehow getting sand in it despite not recalling a single time he put his hands in the sand.

Zoe nods and breaks into a subtle, genuine smile. “Yeah,” she says, “I’d like that.”

“So, how’d it go?” Evan sticks his spoon into his cup of Rocky Road and glances at Jared, seated at his left. Connor and Zoe had gone to the disgusting beach bathrooms- individually, not together- and left the two of them to chat.

Jared blinks and takes another bite of his ice cream. “How’d what go?”

“You know,” Evan says. “Hanging out with Connor.”

“Well, I got to see him shirtless, which was pretty great,” Jared says, and can’t keep back a smirk at the memory. “You’re missing out, pining over Zoe. ‘Course, it’s better than crushing on the same guy.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re gay, Jared.”

Jared shrugs. “Maybe so. Anyway, congrats on actually talking to her instead of, like, having a heart attack and dropping dead.” He’s genuinely proud of Evan, but he’d never _say_ that. Most of their friendship consists of him being a dick to Evan and Evan laughing it off.

“Gee, thanks,” Evan says, but there’s a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes.

Before Jared can respond, Connor sits down next to him, grabbing his waffle bowl off the towel. He eyes Jared, and, when Jared meets his gaze, gives the slightest hint of a smile.

As that smile, that damn smile, hits him, Jared realizes something that now seems blatantly obvious: he doesn’t just _like_ Connor. He _loves_ him.

“What’re you looking at?” Connor asks through a mouthful of vanilla.

Vaguely, in the back of his head, Jared remembers a day months ago when he asked the same thing. All he can do in response is swallow and say, “Nothing.”

The conversation goes on, weaving through various topics as Zoe joins them, but Jared’s not listening. He doesn’t think he could’ve if Connor were talking about the bloody murder he’d committed the previous night. (Wait. No, he’s just talking about his birthday party, but that doesn’t matter.) For once, something in his life makes sense: he loves Connor; he wants to be with Connor, Connor, Connor. He’s quite suddenly the only thing Jared’s ever been so sure of.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, the party isn't so much a party as it is a little get-together with Connor's family. There's nobody else there, no other friends; it's almost painfully awkward. Jared shifts his weight from side to side as he stands beneath the arch that separates the living room from the foyer. “Um. Can I sit down?” he asks, clutching the envelope containing Connor's present: tickets to a PUP concert.

Cynthia looks up and smiles, patting the cushion between herself and Connor. “Of course you can,” she says. “You're our guest.”

Relieved to not be on the sidelines anymore, Jared takes a seat between them, barely resisting the urge to lean his head on Connor's shoulder. His crush has been getting to be unbearable; he can’t focus in therapy anymore, and, when they’re alone together (and, it seems, when they’re not), all he wants to do is be in contact with him. He never knew how touch-starved he was before all this love shit started happening.

“Happy birthday,” Zoe says, voice monotone, and hands Cynthia a bag stuffed with tissue paper, which she passes on to Connor. Glancing down at her hands, Jared notes that she’s rubbing the back of one with her other thumb- why’s she so nervous?

Connor nods his thanks, then sticks his hand into the bag and pulls out three CDs, all by Against Me!. (Jared recognizes them immediately; ever since Connor informed him that their lead singer is a trans woman, he’s been listening to them more and more.) He’s never seen it before in response to anything Zoe’s done, but the corner of Connor’s mouth curls into a subtle smile as he looks down at the CDs. “Thanks, Zoe,” he says.

To Jared’s utter disbelief, Zoe actually smiles back at him- albeit, only at about 1/8th of her normal smile capacity- and says, “You’re welcome.”

It’s pretty boring to not be the one being given gifts (which consist of some pins and bracelets alongside a black and red flannel from Cynthia, and a new laptop “since we can trust you with one again” from Larry), but within a few minutes, it’s Jared’s turn to hand off his present. “It looks pretty humble, but I promise it’s a good gift,” Jared says as he passes the envelope to Connor.

Connor takes the envelope, flashing a smile at Jared (who, had he not been sitting, would have gone weak in the knees), and opens it up with one thumb. When he shakes out the tickets and reads them, his face brightens up with a light that has Cynthia putting a hand to her chest. “Hey, thanks, Jared,” he says, and claps Jared on the back. “I assume you’ll be using the other ticket?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jared says. With a playful elbow in Connor’s arm, he adds, “Guys’ night out, how’s that sound?”

“Great, if it’s with you,” Connor replies.

The smile doesn’t leave Jared’s face for a good five minutes.

 

Jared wasn’t going to stay overnight- it’s a school night, and he’s got a calc test tomorrow- but before he knows it, it’s 12 in the morning, he’s hopped up on cake, and Connor’s brought out some Fireball and Fanta from beneath his bed. “Let’s go to the park,” he’d said, and who was Jared to say no?

The black velvet sky is as lush as the grass beneath them, and Jared relishes it as he takes a sip of his whiskey. It burns as it slides down his throat, but Lordy, he loves it. “So,” he says, “you’re finally eighteen. How’s it feel?”

Connor snorts and takes a straight shot of the Fireball, which, Jared has to admit, he’s too big of a wuss to do. “Yup,” he says, popping the p. “Doesn’t feel any different from being seventeen. I still feel too old for my bones.”

“How poetic,” Jared says, and for once, he doesn’t mean it to be snarky; the words sound so thoughtful coming from him, and, while the ears they fall on are drunk, they can still appreciate it. Emboldened by Connor’s drinking mannerisms, Jared downs the rest of the mug he’d brought, and, even though it makes his face screw up involuntarily, it tastes damn good.

“Slow down, there,” Connor says, and laughs, brushing his hair out of his face. The simple action makes Jared’s chest hurt, and he has to look away for fear of his eyes being burned out. Add the moon to the list of things Connor is brighter than.

Jared bites the inside of his cheek, staring down a singular blade of grass beside him. “Have you ever…” He trails off. He is _definitely_ not drunk enough for this talk, actually. Backpedal, backpedal…

But it’s too late; Connor’s heard him. “Have I ever what?” he asks. He places a hand on Jared’s shoulder, and Jared looks back, staring at Connor’s hand as it slides down his arm to grip his wrist for a brief moment. Holy shit, they should’ve gotten drunk together sooner- apparently Connor gets pretty handsy.

“Um.” Jared swallows, still staring for another moment before he raises his gaze to meet Connor’s. “Have you ever been in love?”

Connor licks his lips torturously, and it’s all Jared can do to keep himself back from kissing the life out of him. Instead, he just tries to focus on breathing as Connor answers, “A couple times. It, um… never ended well, really.” He digs his hands into the dewy grass and rips up a clump.

“Oh.” Jared shouldn’t have brought this up, ‘cuz God knows it probably made Connor feel like shit (and on his birthday!). Still, before he can snap himself out of it, his inhibitions loosen enough for him to continue. “It’s just… I’m in love with this guy.”

Connor sets his shot glass aside and lies down, propping his head up with one arm. “Tell me more,” he says, words slurred the slightest bit together.

Truth be told, Jared didn’t expect to get this far before he chickened out. “Well,” he says, stretching out the syllable, “I… I met him when I was at a bad point in my life.” He scratches the back of his hand, skin somehow still cracked from winter. “He’s made it so much better. And I still have Evan, I know I still have Evan, it’s just… different.” Even loving Connor feels different from loving Evan. Evan was familiar, a warm spot; everything about Connor is still so new.

“I get it,” Connor says, and closes his eyes. “Sometimes it’s just like that. ...What’s he like?”

“...Well…” Jared clears his throat, runs a nervous hand through his hair. “He’s handsome. Very handsome. But not in a conventional way, he’s like- he’s like wine, like an acquired taste.” He berates himself internally: what an odd way to describe someone.

Connor chuckles, a low and breathy sound that has Jared breathing wrong. “Sounds like you’re really into him.”

“I am,” Jared agrees, “and it’s weird, because I used to not like him. Or… I didn’t dislike him, but I was intimidated by him.” Safe from being seen, he smiles gently at Connor, taking in all his features with adoring eyes. “But now… I can see his light.” He would give everything for the world to see Connor this way: at ease, with a smile on his face. Everybody needs to know that this is who he can be.

“His light.” Connor echoes Jared’s words as he opens his eyes again, hooking the pointer finger of his free hand around Jared’s thumb. “Tell me about his light.”

Jared’s heart bangs out an impossible rhythm in his chest as he keeps going. “He’s… he’s got this smile that you don’t see too often, if you’re not me. And he’s seen me at my worst and doesn’t care, doesn’t… judge me.”

“Jared?”

“No, let me… let me keep going,” Jared says, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. “Whenever I see him under the stars, he just… takes my breath away, and I don’t know how to deal with it-”

“Jared.”

“And he’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Jared.”

“And he-”

“Ah, screw it.”

And then Connor’s lips are on his, chapped but not unpleasant, and his hand is coming up to cradle the back of his head, gripping the hair there gently but firmly.

Holy shit. Holy _fucking_ shit. This can’t be real- he must’ve passed out drunk and dreamt all this, but the touch is so realistic, so genuine, that Jared can’t help but believe it is. It’s wonderful, it’s miraculous, but after a while, he breaks away for a moment just to breathe and breathe and breathe and _think._ “Connor, I…”

“Please tell me you were talking about me,” Connor says, letting his hand fall away to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. He looks at Jared with this tenderness in his eyes, such startling _tenderness_ that it nearly takes Jared’s breath away. This is the boy who he thought was a freak, who’s pushed people in the halls, who threw a printer in elementary school. This is _his_ boy, and this look is only for him.

“Of _course_ I was talking about you,” Jared replies, and takes Connor’s hand, leading it back to his head. “So don’t stop.”

Accepting the invitation, Connor keeps going, and he’s _really_ good at kissing, wow. Maybe he’s got experience, or maybe he’s just lucky, but he’s out of Jared’s league, big time. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and places his free hand on the small of Jared’s back, pulling him closer.

Jared’s not sure if it’s the whiskey or all the kissing, but there’s a heat in his chest that’s unfurling, seeping into every inch of him. He’s surprised to find that it’s chaste- he wants to take this slow, keep it steady. When Connor slips a hand beneath his shirt, placing it on his hip, Jared breaks away and says, “Wait.”

Connor obeys immediately and uses the hand instead to run fingers through his hair, clutching it in what looks like a painful fashion. “Fuck, sorry,” he says, “I just thought…”

Jared shakes his head. “Don’t be, I just… we’re tipsy, and this is my first time doing anything beyond, like, kissing Evan to see how it felt-”

Connor bursts out laughing, reaching out a hand to grip Jared’s shoulder. “You kissed Evan?”

“I did, and it was _really_ awkward. And I’m glad this isn’t, it’s just, like…” Jared pauses, bites his lip; he’s acutely aware of Connor’s eyes on it. “Being loved is hard.”

“I know,” Connor says, and brings his hand up to run slender fingers through Jared’s hair. “Lie down with me?”

Jared blinks, not quite sure, but eventually nods and lies down beside Connor. Connor takes a moment to get settled as well, then pulls Jared to him, chest against his back. Jared never thought he’d be here, with Connor’s arm around him, but the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck is enough to keep him grounded to the reality that he is. And, when Connor begins to press loving kisses to the crook of his neck, he allows himself to breathe for real, after so many months of longing.

 

They end up on the bench, somehow- Jared’s not entirely sure how that happened. Why he would get up and leave Connor’s arms is beyond him, but here they are.

“What do you know about the stars?” Jared asks. He’s got his head in Connor’s lap, legs crossed as they hang over the bench’s rusty metal arm. He stares up at his hairless chin- does he shave? Is he just naturally barefaced? These are the kind of things he wants to know about him- not to ask, but to learn the organic way.

Connor’s fingers still from where they were tracing patterns into Jared’s chest, moving lightly across his shirt. “What makes you think I know about the stars?” he asks. Sleepiness drips from his words; he must be exhausted from the booze- and at this hour, too.

“I dunno.” Jared lets his eyes fall shut, but still clings to consciousness; his lips creep up into a smile as Connor’s fingers continue their dance. “You just seem like you know a lot. Weren’t you in AP English this last year?”

“What, and that means I must know shit about stars n’ stuff?” Connor breathes a laugh- more like a snort- but continues. “I know some astrology bullshit. When Zoe was younger, she’d, uh, she’d read us all our horoscopes from the newspaper.”

“What’s your star sign?” Jared asks. “Like, when’s your birthday?”

Connor laughs again, for real this time- a belly laugh that has Jared grinning too. “You were _just_ at my birthday party. I’m a Gemini.”

Oh, yeah. Jared snickers as he opens his eyes again, and his heart trips over itself when he finds himself looking into Connor’s eyes. Did he always have heterochromia? “Oh,” he says, voice shaking. “Right.”

Connor’s gaze is tender, though, like he’s prettier than the stars, a better view than the glimmering night sky. “How about you?” he asks. “I feel like I should know this already, but. I don’t.”

“Capricorn,” Jared says, nothing more than a whisper. “Is that good?”

Connor smiles, a gentle thing that looks almost out of place on his face. “No idea,” he says, and then his lips are on Jared’s again, teeth brushing softly against them. It must be a strain on his back, but he’s doing it anyway, and who else would do that for him?

Jared’s heart trips again, falling off some pericardial cliff in the best possible way. It still hasn’t settled in yet: he’s here in the park, he’s here kissing Connor, he’s here on this bench _he is here kissing Connor._ “Jesus,” he whispers into the night air when Connor pulls away. “If I passed out drunk and this is a weird dream, I’m gonna be having a talking-to with my subconscious.”

“It’s not a dream,” Connor says, and runs a hand through Jared’s hair. Jared longs to do the same, and so he does, reaching up to curl a finger around a lock of Connor’s. It gets the best reaction he could hope for: a pleased sigh and a closing of his eyes.

That warmth spreads through Jared’s body again, curling up through the pit of his stomach to the lining of his throat, where he says, “God, you’re cute.” Saying so out loud drives him to blushing, and he turns away to look out across the park. There’s nobody else there, obviously, but in a tree on the far side of the open space, Jared can barely make out what looks like an owl. Right as he thinks it, it gives an affirming hoot and flies out of the tree.

Connor doesn’t seem to notice it- or, if he does, he doesn’t care. “So,” he says, “how long have you felt like this?” He runs a slender finger from Jared’s chest down to his stomach and back up again; the touch has shivers rising in Jared’s spine.

He stares at the tree for a few moments longer, then turns back to Connor. “Like…”

“Like, the love way.”

Jared swallows, closes his eyes. He can’t say this and look at Connor- it’s too embarrassing. “Since before we were even friends,” he says. “Do you remember that time in group when you stood up for me to- to fucking Winona?”

“Oh, God, that’s right,” Connor says. Jared can sense him bristling beneath his head. “She’s such a cu-”

“Hey, hey,” Jared says in a way that he hopes is soothing. (He’s gotten practice with Evan, but Evan’s panic attacks are a little different from Connor’s anger spikes.) “It’s okay. It’s not like she punched me or anything. And besides, she’s gone now.” It’s true; Winona had been discharged from the program after a spat with a different girl in their group.

Connor breathes out a ragged sigh and returns to running a finger along the curve of Jared’s body. “It’s the principle of the thing,” he says. “Look, if anyone fucks with you...”

As glad as he is that he has someone to back him up- a boyfriend, soon, he hopes- Jared doesn’t particularly want to talk about all that shit right now. “Let’s think about something else,” he says. “Like… when did _you_ start feeling this way about _me?”_

Connor takes a long while to think, and, after about ten seconds, Jared opens his eyes to check that he’s still awake. Connor’s staring straight out, eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon; he lingers like that for a few more moments before answering, “I think when you got high with me.”

Jared laughs, incredulous. “What, me being a pathetic wreck was, like, a turn-on?” How could someone love him at a moment like that, all vulnerable and bare for their small world to see? It’s ridiculous. It’s preposterous. It’s absurd.

And still- “I know,” Connor says. “It’s just… I wanted to hold you really fucking bad. But I didn’t know it was love at the time. I think that’s just when I started really... noticing you.”

Jared hums a soft note of acknowledgement and closes his eyes again. “Well, thanks. For… noticing me.”

Connor laughs, a heartstopping sound that’s got Jared hooked. “You’re the only one in the past… however many years who’s really noticed _me. I_ should be thanking _you.”_ He splays his hand out on Jared’s chest, rubbing his thumb back and forth in long swoops. “It’s like… everyone knows me, because I’m the resident freak. But you looked past all that. Why?”

Jared doesn’t mention that he was at first only interested in Connor to pick his brain and see what the hell his problem is. Instead, he answers, “Because everyone deserves to be known.” It’s scary- terrifying, even- to be known, but with Connor, he’ll concede it.

“That’s sorta beautiful,” Connor says.

“Oh, yeah? _You’re_ sorta beautiful,” Jared shoots back, eyes half-lidded as he gazes up at something even better than the stars.

Connor snorts, rolls his eyes. “You’re drunk, Jared.”

“So are you.”

“Then let’s go home.”

Reluctantly, Jared sits up, head colliding with Connor’s chin. “Shit, sorry,” he says, and scoots over on the bench. “Can I sleep in your bed? I’m too tired to walk home.” Plus, he shouldn’t be out and about while still a little tipsy. He could get arrested for public intoxication. Sure, it’s past midnight, but cops need _something_ to masturbate to at night.

Connor presses one kiss to his temple, and another to the helix of his ear. “You can sleep in my bed any time you’d like,” he says, voice low and inviting, and it's all Jared can do to stop himself from making out with him again.

Instead, he whispers, “Thank you. For everything.”

 

Jared's sluggish fingers scroll through his contacts to find Evan's, nearly settling on his mother's new boyfriend instead. He glances over at Connor, who's passed out next to him on his queen-sized bed, then stands up as quietly as possible and creeps out of the room.

At the center of the Murphys’ kitchen lies a black granite island; Jared rests his elbows on it and crosses one leg over the other as he calls Evan. He knows it's a dick move to call him at three o'clock in the morning, but this is important business. He taps his foot as the dial tone sounds, once, twice, again, but stops when Evan picks up.

 _“What the hell.”_ Evan sounds so utterly done that Jared almosts bursts into laughter. Sue him! It’s fun to mess with Evan. But that’s not what he’s here for.

“I swear to God there’s a good reason I’m calling,” Jared says, and shifts so that his back is pressed almost painfully against the edge of the island. “You're really gonna wanna hear it.”

Evan sighs in a burst of harsh static, and Jared can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. _“Alright, but it’d better warrant waking me up at-”_ A pause. _“- Three in the morning.”_

Jared takes a deep breath in, trying to rein in his swirling thoughts- Connor kissed him! Holy fucking shit!- and finally answers, “So, Connor and I got together.”

A moment of silence. Then, _“Holy shit, dude. Like…_ got together _got together?”_

Jared winces. Yeah, he for sure could have worded that better. “Uh, no. But we kissed a lot. I didn’t wanna do anything more because we were drunk-”

_“You’re drunk?”_

“Just a little tipsy now. Listen, though. _Connor likes me back.”_ Jared’s tired face cracks into a smile as he says it, really sealing the deal. Now that Evan knows, there’s no take-backsies, no writing this off as a one-night thing.

On the other end of the line, Evan gives a small snort of a laugh and says, _“Hey, that’s great. I mean, I still wish you wouldn’t have woken me up, but…”_

“Oh. Huh. Well, feel free to wake me up at ass o’clock in the morning when you finally make a move on Zoe,” Jared says, shrugging despite Evan being unable to see him. “I just… wanted you to be the first to know.”

 _“...Why me?”_ Evan’s voice is hesitant, genuinely confused. It makes Jared ache, almost.

Well, there’s no better time to say it, as long as he’s spilling his guts. Pushed along by the whiskey, Jared says, “Because you’re my best friend. My… only friend, besides Connor.”

 _“Um.”_ Evan clears his throat. _“Is it rude to say I had my suspicions?”_

Jared shrugs again, then, remembering that he’s on the phone, answers, “A little, but I’m in a good enough mood to let you get away with it. Just, uh, don’t tell anyone else I’ve got feelings n’ shit.”

 _“We all know you have feelings, Jared,”_ Evan says, and Jared bites back a groan. _“Now, can I get back to sleep? It’s a weeknight.”_

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Jared sighs, resigning himself to a failed calc test, and rubs one eye. “Yeah, I’ll let you go. Goodnight, Evan.”

_“Goodnight, Jared.”_

The line goes dead, but Jared feels more alive than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

Regarding learning things the organic way: Jared learns a month later that Connor’s favorite food is black bean burgers, which Jared is surprised to find he actually likes. He discovers this because Cynthia’s invited him over for dinner to celebrate Connor’s graduation from the therapy program, so here they all are, seated around the dining room table.

Connor sets his burger down on his plate- a hand-painted, blue-and-yellow mottled ceramic with ‘CELEBRATE’ scrawled on it in cursive- and stretches his arms with threaded fingers, knuckles cracking. (Zoe grimaces.) “You know what I’m gonna miss most about therapy?” he asks, question directed at nobody in particular.

“What is it?” Cynthia asks in turn. There’s a brightness in her eyes that Jared’s only seen once before, on that first day he came over to the Murphys’ house and Connor introduced him as a friend. Normally, she just looks tired.

“Absolutely nothing,” Connor says, and snorts a huff of laughter.

“You did get _something_ out of it, though, right? This isn’t just another of your mother’s ‘miracle cures’?” As always, Larry’s words make Jared stiffen up- he reminds him a little too much of his own dad.

He lets out a breath of relief, though, when Connor replies, “Well, my friend count is now up to a grand total of one, so I’d say it was a success.” It seems to satiate Larry.

Zoe eyes Jared from across the table, flashing him a gentle smile that says, _Thank you._

 _It was my pleasure, falling in love with him,_ is what Jared longs to say, but instead, he just gives a nod and his own secretive smile. Briefly, before he can stop himself, his brain lands on the thought of her being his sister-in-law. Obviously, that’s ridiculous, since he only became official with Connor a few days ago and stuff, but the hidden-away hopeless romantic part of him can’t help but wonder.

When Jared stands up to grab a second burger from the kitchen, Cynthia follows him, excusing herself with a quiet “Be right back.” She enters the kitchen alongside him, and, when Jared turns to her with a questioning look in her eyes, says, “I wanted to thank you.”

“Uh… for what?” Jared asks, although he knows what’s coming.

Sure enough: “For being such a good… friend to Connor,” Cynthia answers, and places a hand on his shoulder. (Jared chooses to ignore the pause before ‘friend’. It’s not like he and Connor aren’t out, and Cynthia is one of the most supportive people he’s ever met, but it’s still awkward to admit that he’s in love with her son.)

“I do my best,” he says instead, and shoves his hands in his pockets, pushing back the bottom of his button-down shirt. “I mean… well, it’s my pleasure.” It really is- all those laughs; all those smiles that only he’s seen; all those kisses on the forehead that lead down to the lips, then to the jaw.

Cynthia rubs her thumb against Jared’s shoulder for a brief moment, then pats him on the side of his arm and lets him go. “You’re a wonderful-”

As he steps into the kitchen, plate clutched tightly in his hands, Connor clears his throat and asks, “What’re you two talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cynthia says hurriedly, and gives a quick, sharp laugh. “I was just… thanking Jared for being a good influence on you.”

“Yeah, he sure is.” Connor eyes Jared, who barely holds back a snicker. All the times they’d gotten drunk together that she doesn’t know about are treasured memories, but they’re _definitely_ going to stay under wraps. “Um, can I…”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll let you two have some alone time,” Cynthia says, and honest to God _winks_ as she leaves _._ Jared nearly dies of embarrassment.

“...I was _going_ to ask if I could grab another burger, but alright,” Connor mumbles after her. He turns to Jared, though, and smiles. “C’mere,” he says, not loud enough for those in the dining room to hear, and gestures for Jared to come closer. When he obeys without a second thought, Connor presses a kiss to the corner of Jared’s mouth, then on the lips, then right below his jaw.

“Connor,” Jared says, half laughter and half warning, “we can’t do this, your family is _right there.”_

“Can Jared and I be excused?” Connor asks, raising his voice so Cynthia and Larry can hear.

“Sure thing,” Cynthia says from the other room, and Connor smiles something wicked.

Another thing that Jared has learned is that kisses are _much_ better when they’re sober. 

 

They end up staring at the ceiling, as Jared has done alone in his room too many times to count. He likes this ceiling a lot better, with Connor pressed up against him, Connor with his fingers threaded through his own, Connor with his lips on his cheek.

“Can I tell you something?” Jared asks after Connor’s lips grace the spot where his jaw meets his neck.

Connor pauses, and Jared can sense him tensing up beside him. “...Will I want to hear it?”

“Don’t worry,” Jared says, and squeezes his hand. If he had his way, he would hug the life out of him, or at least hold him as tenderly as he’s capable of, but not right now. “It’s a good thing, I guess.”

“...Then go ahead,” Connor says, voice so soft that Jared could melt right there and then.

“Okay. Um. I was just thinking that… before you came around, I spent so much time staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.” If it wouldn’t require him to relinquish his grip on Connor’s hand, he would run his fingers through his dark brown locks. “I got so tired of being in my own head.”

Connor nods against him, closing his eyes, and says, “I’d do the same thing. It was… I guess I wanted something different for myself.” In the end, it’s him who lets go of Jared’s hand, which would be a tragedy if it weren’t only to sling his own arm over Jared’s waist instead, laying his head on his chest. “And now, here you are.”

Grateful for the opportunity, Jared brings a hand up to play with Connor’s hair, living and dying for Connor’s soft hum of contentment. “Yeah,” he says, “here I am. And I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Connor is silent for a few moments before he sighs and opens his eyes again. “You promise?”

“Of course I do,” Jared says. “Why would I leave you?” The question is ridiculous to pose, even with Connor’s known abandonment issues.

“I don’t know,” Connor says. After another pause: “I guess because everybody else does.”

“Well, everyone else isn’t the insanely cool and awesome Jared Kleinman,” Jared boasts, wearing his fake grin- except, it isn’t really fake around Connor, is it? No, this feels… natural. Like he can be emotionally barefaced around him, truly himself.

Jared’s heart bursts when Connor’s somber expression turns to a hesitant smile. “That’s true,” he says. “And there’s nobody I’d rather have.”

It’s pretty great being the one someone’s in love with, being the person people don’t want to leave, being the person who’s not _too much._ It’s pretty great to be accepted.

Yeah, Jared could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!  
> As per usual, check out my best friend Ithiel's DEH fic, Saints and Sinners Alike (by OceanicWaters) for more quality Connor and Jared.  
> My sweet and wonderful friend Kayla drew some fanart for this fic!! Look look look look! https://kkamikazed.tumblr.com/post/185260168278/same-shit-different-day-hey-you-should-go-read


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